inscription

written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, i have so often sung under the name of—“chloris.”

'tis friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend,

nor thou the gift refuse,

nor with unwilling ear attend

the moralising muse.

since thou, in all thy youth and charms,

must bid the world adieu,

(a world 'gainst peace in constant arms)

to join the friendly few.

since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,

chill came the tempest's lour;

(and ne'er misfortune's eastern blast

did nip a fairer flower.)